Heartthrob (Bennett Brothers Series)

by Ahren Sanders

  “Do you really want to waste our time wondering that, or do you want to ask your fucking questions?” This comes from Bizzy, who is struggling against Shaw’s hold. I know exactly how they know—Evie.

  Both officers narrow their eyes and start to argue when I break in. “Claire spent the day…” I draw their attention back to me and tell them what I know of her day.

  They ask the standard questions: Do we have any enemies? Any threats? Any jealous old boyfriends? Drug problem? Debts? General problems?

  No, no, no, all of them no.

  They ask about our life, our friends, her family. Routines, hobbies, online presence, etc. With each answer and each passing minute, my anxiety spikes. They question Bizzy and Shaw as well, looking for any hidden clues.

  Without knocking, the door crashes open again with Nick looking murderous, ushering Grace through. “Tell me you have something!” he roars.

  The two officers can’t hide their surprise at his arrival. I guess they missed the part about him being my brother and Shaw’s warning about paparazzi. They do a quick job of gathering themselves, one of them even offering his chair to Grace, who accepts.

  They share a look, and the hair on the back of my neck stands.

  “Dr. Bennett, do you think this is about money? You are a part of a wealthy family.”

  “Oh my God!” Grace cries. “Nick, you have to pay them!”

  He squats next to her, placing one hand on her stomach and another on her cheek. “Sweet Peach, I’ll pay them, but let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “Mrs. Bennett,” one of the officers says softly, and both Bizzy and Grace’s heads whip to his. He directs his conversation to Grace. “It’s a theory we’ll follow, but your husband is right. Don’t jump to conclusions.” His eyes go to her large stomach.

  “Okay, right.” She nods.

  There’s a sharp knock then my door opens. Another uniformed officer is standing there. “I may have something. You’re going to want to hear this.” He holds up a listening device, his eyes sweeping the room. “In private,” he adds.

  “Play it,” I demand.

  He hesitates too long. Nick reaches out and snatches the device, handing it to one of the officers questioning us.

  The sound starts out stifled, but it’s easy to hear the teary emotions in the woman’s voice.

  “I was in the supply closet… um… making out with Clint. Things were getting heated and… um… when he froze. There was a faint vibration against my upper thigh where he was pressed. He moved away and pulled something out of his pocket. I was too confused to see what it was. Without a word, he grabbed a bag stashed in the corner and disappeared. It took me a few minutes to gather my wits, and I went straight to the bathroom. While I was in there, I got angry and sent him a text. Immediately, the message came back as undeliverable. I tried twice more, thinking my service was bad, and the same thing happened. We have been communicating for weeks, and this has never happened.”

  “Who’s the woman in the interview?” one of the officers that have been with me for the last twenty minutes asks.

  “Her name is Lora. She’s been a nurse here for over a year,” I answer. “Clint’s doing an internship here. They hooked up a while ago, but I was under the impression it ended. She’s wasn’t his only one.” I go on to explain the months of gossip, tears, and finally peace when it came to his playboy ways.

  “Might be something, might be nothing, but we’ll talk to him,” the man says.

  “We can’t find him. He’s unaccounted for. His badge was swiped at the employee exit thirty seconds before Claire was taken,” the officer at the door declares.

  At his announcement, rage explodes inside. I’m on my feet, edging by everyone and sprinting to the area where the staff is being interviewed. Evie is at the nurses’ station, her cheeks tear-stained and face a ghostly white. The few women around her look the same.

  “Evie, I need you to speak to every nurse that screwed around with Clint. Have them tell the officers everything they know. Fuck discretion, every detail.”

  A few gasps sound out, but I don’t glance to see who. Shaw and Nick flank my side, their presence giving little comfort.

  “We can’t be sure it was him,” Nick tries to reason.

  “Two minutes ago, he wasn’t on my radar. Now, I feel it in my goddammed soul he’s got her.”

  “Why? What is she to him?” Shaw questions roughly.

  “That’s what we have to figure out.”

  The range of emotions I’ve experienced in the last two hours hits an all-time high as Detective Flores tells me we still have nothing. We’ve prepared for a kidnap-for-ransom situation, but there’s been no contact. It took all of forty-five minutes for him and his team to decide this was an isolated incident, and no one else in the hospital was in immediate danger. The alarm status has been decreased to code two.

  My family, including my parents and Claire’s parents, have been through intense questioning as the detectives try to find a reason for Claire’s abduction. So far, there are only theories, speculations, and hypotheticals. All the women are a mess, to say the least, but Kelly has retreated into a shell of agony. Mitch isn’t much better, but he’s trying his best to be strong.

  The hospital has been able to keep Claire’s name from the press who are outside waiting for information. It’s been a challenge because of the traffic in our department, but none of the children or parents know it was Claire, and the staff has been sequestered. Since it’s only a matter of time before her name leaks, the legal team and hospital administrator are preparing a press conference with the help of the police captain. They’d like to wait until more information is available. I don’t agree. I want her name and picture plastered everywhere. Lucky for me, my brothers feel the same.

  The door to the conference room opens, and Bizzy and Shaw slip through with another officer. At this point, I gave up keeping track of their names.

  “Everything was perfect. Nothing was out of place. Legal documents and investments in the safe. No jewelry missing. The cash Mathis mentioned was exactly where he said it would be. We brought photos for Mathis to tell us if anything seems off,” Shaw tells Detective Flores and hands a folder to me.

  I glance through the pictures, confirming that the condo is exactly as Claire leaves it. Clint didn’t take her there for anything.

  “Mathis, I found this on the dresser, in her jewelry box.” Bizzy holds out her hand, the diamond engagement ring in the middle of her palm. My heart seizes for the hundredth time. I take it, twirling it between my fingers, and swallow the burn in my throat. I chuckle, not with humor, but pain. Claire didn’t want to wear her ring to work because she was terrified it’d get messed up.

  “Thanks, Biz.”

  “I also brought a chain. A lot of nurses wear their rings around their necks. Maybe you want it—”

  “Put it on me,” I cut her off abruptly, handing back the ring.

  She slides it on the chain and fastens it around my neck, squeezing my shoulder.

  I’m done with this shit. Time to take matters into my own hands. I glare at Shaw, and his eyes flare with understanding. He leaves without a word, going to find Nick. Bizzy gives another squeeze, knowing what’s coming.

  Detective Flores’s phone rings, and he brings it to his ear, his gaze trained on me. He listens, with each passing second his eyes growing harder. Bizzy whimpers, and I stand, putting my arm around her shoulder. His head hangs, and he talks in Spanish, too fast and fluent for me to catch any word.

  After he hangs up, he turns his back and gives the officers in the room low instructions and they take off.

  “Dr. Bennett, would you like to have this conversation in private?”

  “Even if he said yes, which for the sake of his future children, he better not, I’m not leaving!” Bizzy fumes, leaning forward. “What has happened?” At this point, I hold her trembling body back.

  He looks between us and talks. “Clint Erickson doesn’t exist
. At least, not the Clint working in this hospital the last few months. It’s an alias. We’re working now on a full identity and profile. He has moved from a person of interest to the main suspect.”

  “I fucking told you that shit hours ago!” Now, Bizzy has to hold me back as I lunge.

  “Dr. Bennett, we have protocols, processes, and lines of investigating to follow. No matter what you assumed, we’ve been looking into this ‘Clint’ since his name was mentioned. Details are coming to light, and I’m sharing them now.”

  “Sharing them? What the hell are you sharing? We’re all sitting here on our asses when we could be searching for her. The news is downstairs and could have been broadcasting her disappearance! This is the biggest fucking bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Her parents are outside waiting for a call demanding millions of dollars, and my pregnant sister-in-law almost had a nervous breakdown! Don’t you think we should have been let in on your motherfucking lines of investigating?”

  He doesn’t flinch, and it hits me hard. There’s more. Someone knows something internally. There’s only one person who it could be. The person who hired him. Bizzy uses all her strength, but it only serves to slow me down as I drag her with me on the way to the door.

  “Where is he?” I bark, knowing anyone in thirty feet can hear me.

  “The hospital administrator has been retained for questions and lawyered up. He’s been transferred to the station. In the meantime, a judge has granted access to all his files, and my technical team is searching for clues.”

  “Tell them to dig fucking deep. This asshole had access to everything on the floor. He met my family. If he’s after money, he knows he’s hit the payload.”

  He opens his mouth, but the door slams open and Shaw storms in, Nick and my dad close behind. “What’s happened?”

  I spit out what has transpired, and the air in the room changes, Shaw coming to remove Bizzy’s death grip on my arm. Grace breezes in, looking only slightly better than she did a while ago before I insisted she rest in one of our empty rooms. Nick went with her and only left her side when Mom would sit with her while he got updates.

  Phones go crazy with dings and alerts, and a piece of me settles knowing what’s happening. Nick and Grace were busy.

  A man in a suit barges in, authority and command written all over him. I easily recognize him as the Captain who was supposed to be here an hour ago.

  “Detective Flores, time to start the press conference.”

  Flores stands straighter. “I thought the conference was delayed through legal.”

  “It was, until three minutes ago. Claire Dixon’s story went public and viral. When I say viral, I mean fucking VIRAL. The entire Miami football team roster, coaches, trainers, and management staffs have posted her information on their social media. The news was leaked to the reporters, and the outlets are going insane. We need to give them something official and give them the tip line.”

  “What can we do?” I direct my question to the Captain.

  “I’d like for you to work with an IT specialist and go over your internal files, see if anything looks out of place. With everything my team has gathered from the staff, we’ve created a profile. If you think of anything to add to that, tell Detective Flores immediately.”

  He’s solid and steady, devoid of emotion, but something in his tone is off.

  “What aren’t you telling us?”

  He exchanges a look with Flores and steps inside, closing the door. The tension in my body strings tighter, threatening to snap.

  “I don’t think Claire was kidnapped for ransom. General abductions on wealthy families statistically have contact by now. The details we are getting from the nurses who were involved with who we know as Clint lead me to believe he targeted Claire for reasons other than money.”

  “What kind of details?”

  “One woman reports, when they met for dinner, he was dressed nicely, nothing out the ordinary for a date, but she noticed he was wearing a Rolex. The nurse, Lora, mentioned after they hooked up again, he would stay at her place. One morning, she picked up his jeans and noticed the Dolce & Gabbana label. Our officers have five women who had sexual encounters with Clint. Each of them reports that the evening started out the same. Meeting for dinner or drinks, light and easy conversation, and his suggestion to go back to their place. He’d always pay with cash, never a credit card. He’d follow them home, and each gave a different automobile description.

  “What I’m getting at is that a man who wears a twenty thousand dollar watch, eight hundred dollar jeans, pays with cash, and owns multiple vehicles is not after a payout.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “We think you can help us figure it out. He wants Claire for a reason.”

  “What’s happening with David Wayne?”

  “The administrator isn’t cooperating, but he’s beginning to see reason. Our forensics team isn’t having much luck finding a print here in the hospital considering all the employees, but teams are going to each of the women’s houses to try to lift a usable sample. We have officers going to the restaurants the women mentioned, questioning the staff and combing through footage if available. We’re working every angle to find out who this man is. Once we know that, we’ll find him. I’m not throwing the ransom theory out the window, but it’s highly unlikely.”

  Bile stirs in my gut thinking about all the time I spent mentoring this son of a bitch. The first time I met him, I knew he was trouble, but somewhere along the line, I chose to ignore my instincts. He may have been a dick to women, but he showed talent in his field. Interested, perceptive, compassionate… taking a personal interest in patients.

  Two things hit me at once. “Josh and my car.”

  All eyes swing to me. “Josh is a patient of mine who was recently discharged. Clint showed special interest in his case. He never said anything, but I got the impression Josh resembled someone close to Clint. I mentioned him earlier to the officers interviewing me, but now, I wonder if there’s a deeper connection.”

  “Take our technology specialist through the file. She may be able to find a missing link. What about your car?”

  “He was in my car a few days ago when we went to tell Claire about Josh’s discharge. You will find his fingerprints somewhere.”

  Detective Flores types something into his phone and then looks at me. “There’s a forensics technician meeting you at the elevator.”

  I dig my keys out of my pocket and toss them to Shaw who catches them, takes Bizzy’s hand, and leaves to meet the tech.

  “Mathis, what do you need us to do?” My dad speaks for the first time, his voice loaded with concern.

  “Go tell Mom and the Dixons the latest news, so they’re not staring at their phones waiting for a ransom call. When you pass the nurses’ station, send Evie and Dr. Cross to my office. They are familiar with Josh’s case and also worked closely with Clint.”

  He takes off, and I turn my attention to Grace and Nick. “Keep her name and picture rolling on social media. Now that we have a tip line number, add it. Put every recent picture you have of her up. Someone had to see something.” They nod, Grace’s eyes welling up again but determination also shining through.

  “Dr. Bennett, if you’d like to speak at the conference, it can be arranged,” the Captain offers.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got a job to do. And, I’m warning you now, when we find the bastard, there’s a good chance I’m going to kill him.”

  The statement hangs in the air as I brush past them. They may think my threat is idle, but they’re wrong.

  Chapter 19

  Claire

  “Are you going to tell me your name?”

  “Bob.” His grip on my elbow tightens as we turn down another long hallway. I try to yank away, but it’s no use. He’s easily three times my size in bulk and weight, and the last time I tried to get away from him wasn’t successful. He didn’t flinch, but I was certain I almost broke my hand from the punch.

  “Your
name isn’t Bob.” This brute of a man does not look like a Bob.

  “Nope.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I push for the tenth time, never getting an answer.

  Silence.

  Since I woke up an hour ago, he’s the only person I’ve seen. He was waiting for me to come to, and when the grogginess wore off, he immediately whisked me out of the room. My phone and watch are gone, so I have no way of telling how long I was out, but the drug used didn’t leave me bleary. I’m alert, aware, and fear is beginning to creep in. This stranger doesn’t seem to want to hurt me, but there’s no telling where he’s taking me. I try to plant my feet and get loose again, and shout in pain when his fingers dig into my flesh.

  “Stop,” he commands.

  “Let me go!” I scream, writhing like a madwoman.

  Instead of releasing me, he bends, linking an arm under my knees, and throws me over his shoulder roughly. My ribs take the brunt of his muscular shoulder and knock the breath out of me. I wheeze through the pain and beat on his back, but it’s no use.

  He finally stops. There’s a beeping then the sound of a door closing. The distinctive smell of disinfectant hits me, and I stop struggling. He places me on my feet, glares at me disapprovingly, and leaves.

  I’m in a lab—a large, pristine, fully equipped, state-of-the-art medical lab. It’s laid out exactly like the one on our floor at the hospital.

  A door behind me opens, and I spin, coming face to face with Clint. I’m stunned speechless, my heart beating out of control. This is not the hot, scrub wearing, make women fall at your feet, Clint. This is another man altogether. My eyes roam over him. He’s wearing expensive designer clothes, a diamond encrusted platinum watch, and Italian loafers I know cost over a thousand dollars. His usual unruly hair is perfectly styled. When my gaze lands on his face, a chill slides down my spine at the wicked smile aimed at me.